


The Warlock & The Dragon

by kiropsia



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments (Movies), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Child Neglect, Closeted Character, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Freeform, M/M, Magnus Bane & Ragnor Fell Friendship, Malec, Panic Attacks, Plague, Torture, implied swerfism, warlocks can shapeshift
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiropsia/pseuds/kiropsia
Summary: After learning his family business must go under while the Plague is at their doorsteps, inexperienced Alec Lightwood joins a mercenary guild. Hired by the king, their mission is to catch a notorious warlock, and use him to slay a dragon that threatens life itself.Consider this on pause/slow updating because it takes so much energy to write and I just don't have it atm oof
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Home

-A-

Nothing worried Alec quite like his family did. Even the smallest of anxieties that constantly spiraled in his head were linked to their well-being, or lack of it. What if a friend who became cross with him bullied his younger brother? A suspicious man avoiding eye contact on the street may pickpocket the few coins Alec carried to buy their food. At times, Alec knew his worrying became illogical, but God knew he couldn't offload any of these concerns onto his parents. No, Maryse and Robert Lightwood were like honorary monarchs; they appeared in charge, and in public spoke for the Lightwoods, but for as long as he could remember Alec had been the acting head of the family. Since he was old enough to see over a market counter (and he'd been a tall kid), the eldest of the Lightwood children had been his family's keeper in all matters that required any level of responsibility or rational thought. Too large of a burden to be placed on someone so young.

Thus, Alec worried.

He was extra anxious on the day when the letter arrived. Addressed to Maryse and Robert Lightwood, he read it with a furrowed brow leaning up against the counter of the family's general store. For the third time in that dry summer, the caravan of goods for the store had been lost, its members most likely sick with the Plague. The note, with their supplier's fancy header scrawled cheerfully across the top, explained that this would be the end of their service to the Lightwoods, as it was going bankrupt. They were keeping the deposit and would not be refunding any of the three deliveries lost this summer.

The name of the last town the caravan had reported to also fed his fears. It was only a few days travel from his home city, Calderan. Just months ago, the Plague was only easily ignored rumors and mass hysteria. Now, it was at their doorsteps. He'd begun to see more people with cloths wrapped around their nose and faces and wondered if he and his family should begin to do the same.

Reading and dealing with the mail was one of what Maryse so elegantly referred to as, Alec's "chores". It hadn't taken Alec long to realize that his parents did not actually care, or absorb any information, when he made attempts to tell them what the letters contained. So later that morning, as his younger sister Isabelle distributed plates of eggs and mash to the members of the house (plus Jace Wayland as usual), Alec was the only one turning it over in his mind that their one source of income was about to fail, and a lethal plague was less than a week away. If it wasn't already here.

"Alec, come run errands with me today," his mother drawled, sitting back from her untouched food.

Maryse's designated "errands" were mostly church, tea and gossip with her friends, and spending more of their money than Alec would like on clothing. Isabelle was usually the one tugged along for this, Alec could count on one hand the number of times his mother had invited him. On all occurences, her motive had been the same.

"Who do you want me to meet?" He had no time for this today.

Her fake smile lost a couple watts but still, Maryse charged on ahead.

"Why, you've always had this uncanny ability to read my mind! It's so clear you're my son," she said. "Her name is Emily, actually, daughter of that Vernant man down south who owns the big timekeeping store. She's such a sweet girl, thirteen but intelligent and with sharp wit like yours. A tad quiet, so I think the two of you would get along famously!"

Alec felt nauseous. The kind of _getting along with girls_ that Maryse was expecting was bad enough, let alone with one the same age as his baby sister.

"I'll think about it," he said, already deciding the answer was no.

"I do hope you'll come. Isabelle already agreed to."

Alec raised an eyebrow at his sister, who responded with a confused shrug. Clearly, she had never heard of this plan.

"I told Izzy last night that she was supposed to start mending our winter clothes today," Alec invented, and Isabelle smiled gratitude at him. "She has more than enough friends to distract her from school. Let her do something useful with her time, instead."

"Besides," Isabelle interjected. "I already know Emily Vernant, and she's a brat."

Maryse's mouth pressed together just a fraction more. "I've already informed them she's coming. It's rude to cancel plans last minute, Mr. Vernant is well connected in this city and I'd hate to disappoint him."

Alec frowned. "Why would he care? She's just your daughter. It's not like you're cancelling too."

Maryse was avoiding eye contact. Her coffee and milk had been mixed for some time, but she stirred it regardless. "He's excited to meet her. Poor man has been in such a way since his wife passed. We both thought a young girl as cute as Isabelle would cheer him up."

There was a clatter. Jace had dropped his fork onto his plate and stood, shoving his chair back. Though not a blood relative, the blond had generally absentee parents and had been Alec's closest friend for most of their lives. Most nights, he spent at the Lightwood residence, more like another brother than a house guest. So he knew Maryse quite well, and did not fear her like the others in the city did. He fixed darkened golden eyes on her and snarled.

"You fucking cr-"

"Jace. Sit," Alec put his face in his hands. When he heard Jace's bottom hit his chair again with a pissed off sigh, he looked back up at his mother. "Vernant has grey hair."

"So? Because a man is an elder he doesn't deserve support in a time of struggle? How could you imply such a thing, Alec?" she shot back. Her charm was fading. "I thought I raised you to be less of a barbarian."

This time, Alec couldn't control Jace. "My mother's had countless meetings with Vernant. He's the barbarian, from what she's told me."

As she was a prostitute, Jace's mother usually did not exist to prim and proper Maryse Lightwood. It was rare he brought her up around Alec's parents at all. The effect on Maryse was immediate. She began to sputter, a furious look in her eyes. Before she could take her frustration out on his friend, Alec again played damage control and spoke up.

"You'll have to figure out how to cheer him up by yourself. I need Izzy today."

Maryse glared, but for all her faults she was smart enough to know that when it came to control over her children, they would listen to Alec over her every single time. "Fine. If I don't leave soon, I'll be late. All of this nonsense has eaten into my time for getting ready." She left the room.

After a few quiet, tense moments, Alec's father sighed and got up to follow his wife. Now left alone, the Lightwood children relaxed and began to fight over who got what portion of their parents' uneaten breakfast. By the time Isabelle had far more mash than she could consume, six year old Max's plate was overflowing with broken egg yolk, Jace hoarded an unhealthy amount of coffee, and Alec somehow had less on his plate than he began with, most of the tension in the room had dissipated. Innocent little Max, face covered in food, looked over at Jace with huge green eyes.

"What did Vern said to your mum?" he asked.

Jace bit his lip. "Uh. He threatened to hurt her cat if she didn't listen carefully."

Max looked distraught. "How could he hurt a kitty?!"

"Don't worry, he didn't actually do it. She's a good listener, and he's all talk."

To Alec's left, Isabelle was quietly dragging her fork around her plate, her face hard to read. He caressed her hair and she looked up, as if surprised out of deep musing. "You okay?" he asked her, underneath Max and Jace's engaged discussion about a prisoner they'd seen delivered to the crown that morning.

"I'm alright," she said, pretending to listen to Max's excited description of the small army that had been guarding the mysterious prisoner.

Alec gently pulled knots out of her hair with his fingers. "I was fifteen when she started this with me. Selling her own kids. I hoped she would wait until you were at least a little older."

Swallowing, Isabelle asked, "What do I do? How do I make her stop?"

"You need to show her that you can say no. I know that's hard for you with her, it used to be for me too. But it's easier than you'd think. Do it once, and it gets way easier every time after that."

"I can't."

"Yes you can. I've seen you do it to Max's bullies, boys bigger than you. You're fierce as hell. You can handle kids, so you can handle adults. They're not so bold, just good at pretending they are."

Isabelle's lip wobbled but no tears fell. "I'm scared of her."

"So was I," responded Alec. "You have an advantage I didn't, though."

"What's that?"

"You just saw it, kiddo. Two big brothers who are more than used to telling her where to stick it. Whenever you need backup, we'll be here."

His sister smiled.

"We can't fight the entire fight, though. If she keeps misjudging you as weak and passive, she'll just go behind our back," Alec warned. "So, I need you to show her that you can fight, too."

"I'll do my best."

"You always do."

\----------

The pub air was thick with smoke and the heady scent of hops and hot food. Even at noon, the tables were crammed with sweaty men who seemed to only be able to communicate in yelling. An ignored fiddle player was missing many of his notes, but Alec was the only one to notice and he didn't care.

Alec and Jace made their way straight to the large board of notices that took up a huge chunk of the wall next to the bar. The bartender recognized them with a nod, and did not bother to offer them drinks. He was busy trying to shoo away a stray black cat snoozing happily on his counter.

"So, what are we funding this time, my silent friend?" Jace asked, as Alec skimmed over the cheaper bounties, focusing his search for as many zeroes as he could find.

"Everything. And there's no we this time. I'm probably going to be gone for a while, I need you to stay back and watch the kids."

Jace balked. "What's happened?"

"We're going to have to close the store."

"What in the- why?!"

"Can't run a store without any product." One of the notices was offering an entire butchered cow for the return of some stolen sentimentalities.

“I’m gonna need more explanation, Alec,” said Jace.

Alec closed his eyes and sighed. Just one cow? That wasn’t enough. What if the weather didn’t get cold in time and it all went bad before they could eat it? Or what if with everything else going on they didn’t have time to dry the meat? Or what if it wasn’t enough for all of them, and they ran out just before the longest blizzard? Keeping his parents to rations was a struggle every year. No, they needed hard cash, a way to keep it safe and hidden, and _a lot_ of potatoes. Even that may not be enough.

“Alec? Halloo? Where’d you go, man?”

Shaking his head, Alec turned to Jace with a weak smile. “Sorry, what?”

“Are you alright? You look like your brain won’t turn off again,” Jace said. When Alec provided no answer, he looked slightly defeated. “What happened with your supplier?”

 _Your_ supplier. As if Jace wasn’t the one unloading crates every morning and meticulously organizing their shelves with more logic than Alec could ever muster up. Customers would gush to Maryse about how pretty the store always looked, how easy it was to find the things they needed all in one related space, everything lined up with absolute precision. Maryse at least wasn’t lying when she said it was effortless for her.

“The Plague. It cut off another caravan. Apparently they’ve been struggling to get anything through to anyone all summer,” Alec rubbed the space between his eyes. “The company’s gone under, and they’re not refunding anything.”

“Of course, they’re keeping the fucking deposit, I kept saying it didn’t I? It was shady how long they were taking to get it to us.”

Alec turned back to the board. “We have another issue.”

“You do have a knack for thinking of them,” teased Jace. “Look dude, we can find another supplier. Everything’s going to be fine. Just calm down and stop thinking so much.”

“The last town they reported to was Acapul and everyone was healthy. Which means they caught it somewhere between here and there.”

Jace went silent.

In the beginning, the Plague was just a rumor. Whispers of people whose bodies began to rot while they were still alive, of huge painful lumps which made one grotesque and delirious with pain. Most folk ignored the tales, but Alec paid attention, turning it over and over in his mind until his dreams were filled with sickness, so much of it that it seemed to spill out through his ears and become something material. Then, the real reports came in, and the newspapers felt it credible enough to speak about it. Farms destroyed by it, crops and animals and people alike. Then small villages, towns, eventually an entire city fell. That was around when the hysteria began to poison the air. Nobody knew where it came from. Some blamed a higher power, punishing humanity for its sins. Others jeered at foreigners in the streets, even attacking them. There was a sharp increase in hunting small birds for sport.

All that was certain was that anyone who went near a sick person would soon become ill themselves, and most who became ill would die not long after.

“This city is cramped. We might need to evacuate. That’s why I need you to stay here, in case it comes before I get back from whatever job we find today. My parents are going to want to stay, so if it comes to it, you have to kidnap Isabelle and Max. Whatever it takes. Just get them out, please do this for me.”

Jace searched his brother’s eyes, then nodded once. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Joining him in scanning the board, Jace said, “All of our mercenary adventures in the past have been light work to get new boots or cover tax increases. You’re right, we need as much dough as we can get. Apple thief bounties won’t cut it. We’ll need extra horses, a wagon, tents, all kinds of survival supplies. You have to do something big,” he stabbed an advertisement with his index finger. “Something like this.”

Alec stepped over to look. The ad’s header was that of the king himself.

“ _Well-bodied guards required for the interrogation of a dangerous supernatural criminal…_ ” read Jace. “ _Ragnor Fell is wanted for the crimes of witchcraft, consorting with the dead, and refusal to cooperate with a royal investigation concerning the whereabouts of his colleague…_ Holy shit. This one is it. It’s in the city so I can even join you, double the pay.”

Alec stared for a moment at the name of Ragnor Fell’s infamous colleague, then looked at Jace in disbelief. “Are you sure we want to get involved in this?”

“Think about it. We show up as guards, I talk you up, you make an amazing first impression like you always do. Then, we tell them you can help find him after the interrogation,” insisted Jace. “ _Magnus fucking Bane_ , Alec. The Holy Grail of bounty hunters everywhere! Can you imagine the payout? Screw the Plague, we’d be set for the rest of our lives!”

“Why doesn’t the king use his knights for this?”

“Maybe they’re scared. Warlocks are pretty rare these days.”

“Shouldn’t we be scared, too? The worst thing we’ve hunted is petty criminals.”

“I’m not scared of money, Alec, and I know you aren’t too. We’re badass. All of these others have only failed at catching the pussycat because they’re amateurs. Not you.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never even seen a warlock. You and I are the exact definition of amateurs.”

“With that attitude, sure. The crown doesn’t have to know you’ve never been near one. All they have to know is you’re good at what you do, and you’re going to bring them that witch’s head on a silver god damn platter with some glazed roasted vegetables to go with it.”

“Or just get blasted into a million pieces the second I face him.”

A sneeze distracted Alec for a moment. The defiant cat on the bar counter had sat up and was staring directly at him with piercing green eyes, an expression like it was hoping he would feed it treats. He ignored it and turned back to Jace.

Jace’s grin widened. “So you admit you could find him. Jeez, I wish I could come with you.”

“The only thing I’m agreeing to is _this_ job,” Alec tapped the notice. “It pays well-ish. We go be guards for the interrogation, it’ll take just one day. Then we collect our checks, we go home, and we start planning how we’re going to get out of here. I’m no good to my family dead.”

“Always with your absolutes. We’ll see how it turns out, I guess. You know, I bet Clary would keep an eye on the kids, she’s babysat them before so kidnapping them would be easy. No way am I cool with letting you go hunt down Magnus Bane while I sit at home.”

“I mean it, Jace. Getting ourselves killed will solve nothing.”

“Okay, so we don’t get ourselves killed.”

\----------

Ragnor Fell had had better days.

Alec was surprised by the apparent humanity the warlock displayed. Of course, there was the green skin and the goat horns sprouting from his matted white curls, but other than that he could be just another young nobleman. His posh accent was hoarse, his skin bruised, his eyes heavy lidded and his posture sagged with exhaustion, but his eyes seemed to command the room with his fury. He had been tied to the chair he sat in, fancy clothes ruined, arms behind the back, and he leaned forward against his bonds. Though he kept repeating that he neither knew nor cared about Magnus Bane’s whereabouts, the large interrogator either didn’t believe him or was simply having a good time beating him up. After one well-placed punch had the warlock spitting out blood, Alec looked away. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with this.

‘This’ had been going on for hours. His legs hurt from standing so long, and he was getting sleepy, but he was sure Fell was in much worse shape.

Alec stood straight, hands folded behind his back, doing his best not to let his distaste reflect in his face. Demon or not, he hadn’t expected to be witnessing torture today. This was the glory of mercenary work. Alec didn’t see how beating a man who’d already had enough was constructive towards any kind of cause, but he tried to remember that this was a _warlock._ They were tricksters, incredible actors capable of seeming as human as your neighbor. But inside, every one of them was a demon, vile at heart and deserving of eradication.

Demons were not worth pity. He had to remind himself that.

To his right, Jace’s expression was tight. Alec suspected he was disappointed by how they’d been received that morning. Nobody had even cared to ask their name or experience, they were simply ushered in and pushed towards an armory full of cheap, rusting chainmail. There was no chance to talk anyone up, or make any kind of impression whatsoever, no possibility of climbing any ladders or appearing unique from the other dozens of bodies hired to do the job. The interrogator, Philip Duffin, who was also in charge of the caravan searching for Magnus Bane, had walked past them as if they weren’t there. Alec had been expecting this. Would Jace have listened if he tried to tell him?

Through a few barred holes across the top of the basement jail’s wall, Alec could see the sky beginning to darken. He surveyed the few rows of silent armored men blocking the exit. King’s men, holding large ornate swords; decorated weapons from families with generations of fighting experience, not the crude, functional axes and knives of the other mercenaries in the large, dusty room.

“ _Where_ did he say was going after Calderan?” Philip Duffin was demanding. He was possibly the largest person Alec had ever seen; he wondered if the man was related to giants. He had a thick western accent, and sparse red hair. His fur armor was decorated with dozens of trophies from presumable victims. A necklace of vampire teeth, buttons fashioned from bones and horns, barbed tail ends and oddly coloured eyeballs lined his belt, and an entire preserved werewolf head snarled from its mount on his shoulder.

The warlock coughed. “I. Don’t. Know.” His eyes were filled with hatred. Through the abuse, he’d hardly cried out, and not once had he begged for mercy as Alec would expect a man to. “He. Did. Not. Say. He’s _never_ said. Nobody ever knows what that bastard is up to, least of all me. I don’t think _he_ even knows what’s next most of the time. He just… goes.”

Another punch. “What were you doing with him?”

“He just-pfft, he just _showed up_! One moment I’m enjoying peace and quiet, and then suddenly he’s moving into my room along with nineteen boxes of raw fish. If I knew where the ass was, I’d have sold him all the way out. He owes me for the maintenance bill that hotel sent me.”

Philip grasped Fell by the collar. “Do you want this to end with your execution?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?!”

Seeing movement among the sea of legs, Alec shifted his gaze. A cute, furry black head had popped out not two feet away from him. The cat slunk in front of the guards, luminescent yellow-green eyes watching the interrogation with interest. It padded right up to Alec and rubbed against his legs, and if Alec was honest, the temptation to pet it was nearly overwhelming, but he had to be stoic. Given the nature of such creatures, there was no point in trying to understand how the little animal got into a locked down high security prison. Cats went where they pleased.

When he succeeded in paying no attention to the cat, it gave up and winked at him.

As it abruptly began to sprint towards Ragnor, there was a blast, and the dim room became a blinding chaos of light, smoke and rubble.

-M-

Ragnor was screaming, though to Magnus’ relief it sounded more like anger than pain. He cracked his neck, coming back into his own body, then stumbled towards the shape amid the rubble that he hoped was his dear friend.

The room was filled with stone dust and confused groans of too many big burly men. Magnus knew they had little time. He chose to ignore the insults Ragnor was calling out (he must have not realized it was his darling long time friend, come to rescue him in this trying time). With a flash of dazzling blue light, his lettuce-tinged accomplice was unbound. They’d put some kind of charm on the ropes to prevent Ragnor from using magic, but clearly hadn’t thought of outside influences. Magnus pulled his friend to his feet and shoved him through the hole he’d blasted in the foundation wall. The building moaned and complained above them. He might have gone overboard, just a bit.

“What took you so long?” asked Ragnor, taking advantage of a window well for an easier climb.

“I was busy, and besides, I had to make an entrance.” Magnus could see that inside, the mundanes were recovering. The cute one was of course the most alert, fighting to free his leg from rubble. In his head, Magnus cheered him on and wished they’d met under different circumstances. He forced himself to pay attention to Ragnor. “Go, it’s me they really want. They won’t chase you, so don’t try to be a hero for me.”

Ragnor was already on the street and limping away. “Never bother me again, I mean it!” he tossed over his shoulder. “Every time I cross paths with you I regret it!”

“Until next time, my love,” Magnus shooed him away.

-A-

Alec was deaf. He fought to stand.

A tinny noise ran in the back of his head, its persistence hurting his senses. Rubbing his ears only made it worse. His eyes stung. Full of rock dust, they soaked his cheeks. For a second he didn’t know who or where he was.

All at once the excruciating pain in his right leg was noticed. Ending it became his life purpose. Alec was on his back, so he tried to sit up.

He gasped as soon as he pulled on his legs. For a moment, he saw nothing. Never had he known pain like this. Combined with the worsening ringing, he was sure he would die.

Alec’s calf was wet. He tugged at the fabric. _Bad move._

He heard a gruesome moan. Maybe it was his own voice. He didn’t know, everything was pain.

Careful this time, his fingers skated down his calf until he found the source of the pain and blood. A metal bar from one of the cells. It was broken to the length of a few inches and the jagged end was planted deep in his calf. His foot was stuck in rubble of broken stone blocks.

Alec removed his hands. He half coughed, half groaned, almost choking on his own spit. The past few minutes came back to him as he peered through the smoke.

Was this really happening?

He thought he saw Ragnor Fell being pushed out into the night. A lithe human figure appeared to be helping the subject of Alec’s job escape.

Bent forward, he started to dig himself out. His family. Money.

The pieces of blown rubble were small, but there were millions. They scraped his fingertips and hurt his nails. Alec didn’t care. _His family._

When he looked again, the air was clearing. Ragnor was gone. Where he’d been was someone Alec didn’t recognize. An elegant silhouette against the dying sunlight, staring right at him.

Heart racing, Alec yanked on his leg. Pain threatened to consume him. Another yank and he was coming free. With a yell of agony, he pulled his foot out. Panting, he watched the rubble clatter into the new empty space.

Alec was on his feet. Hunched and unsure how he was going to walk, but upright.

The silhouette was backing away into the street. Alec limped after him, gritting his teeth through the pain. The stranger ran. Alec managed to pull himself up and outside, then faltered against the outer wall, watching the person go. For a moment, he considered letting them, but then, to his confusion, they disappeared into thin air. In their place was a small black cat that paused next to an alley to fix bright green eyes on Alec.

Everything made sense.

He ignored the pain in his leg. Adrenaline was kicking in, anyway. The cat flattened its ears against its head, seeing him advance towards it. It dashed down the alley with Alec hot on its tail.

He hit the wall of the alley hard. He was leaving a trail of blood behind him, but he had a hunch. A hunch that catching this cat would solve all of his problems.

They burst out of the alley. The feline led him through a matrix of crowded streets and squares. It was trying to lose him. Maybe it thought he was a mercenary from somewhere else, but Alec was born in this city. He knew it with his eyes closed.

People swore at Alec, evening shoppers dreary from their long day. Some screamed, probably noticing all the blood. He didn’t care. His focus was on the cat, like a dog on a groundhog. Fruit flew to the ground as he crashed by a stall and children laughed and cheered in his wake.

When he turned down one narrow alley, Alec’s heart completely stopped and all the energy left him at once. He had come to what seemed to be an entire colony of dozens of stray cats. Black, grey, brown, spotted, they filled the space, sleeping and cleaning and supervising. He crumpled to the ground and glared back at them all.

A door opened in the wall, its interior light pouring into the twilight, and scraps of something bloody were tossed out. The cats clamored around the door, meowing and scrabbling over the pieces. So this was why they hung out here. Soon, the rain of free food ended, and a foot pushed away the bold ones closest to the door, which then shut with a hollow thunk. Alec sighed, dragged himself over to sit with back against the sandstone brick wall.

The ringing had stopped, at least.

He stared down at his leg, at the chunk of iron stuck in it, at the blood pooling around the wound and painting the cobblestone beneath him, so much blood. It came to him that this could be it. His head was dizzy. He barely had the energy to keep his eyes open, but something told him he must.

Nobody knew where he was. Nobody knew he was injured. If Jace was unconscious, it could be a long while before his absence was even noticed.

Slow, cautious, a small black cat crept into his vision. It kept its distance, ears flattened back, vibrant green eyes locked onto his. All Alec had to do was reach forward and he could grab it, but he didn’t have the energy for even that.

“You win,” Alec sighed. “Fuck you.”

The cat sat with its tail tucked neatly over its paws. Its fur was soft and clean, this was no stray. What would the irony be if he’d only been chasing someone’s pet? The thought of this made him begin to giggle.

“I think I’m going to die here,” Alec told it. “Surrounded by cats.”

This struck him as hilarious, and his giggles devolved into hysterical laughter. But his lungs were weakened from dust and smoke, so this turned into painful coughing.

When he had some level of control over his breathing, he spit on the ground. His leg pulsed with pain. Running through the streets had been the worst of ideas. Turning, Alec tried to yell for help, but his voice came out small and raspy. He probably looked like a drunk beggar, anyway.

Could he tear off his shirt and use it as a tourniquet? Did he have the energy to-

A fresh, harsher bout of pain knifed up his leg and he felt a hand there. A man was kneeling before him now. He wore a black hooded cloak and a dark scarf across his face, just his beautiful yellow-green eyes and the dark skin around them poking out. His brown hands were black in some spots with Alec’s blood. One of them gripped the offending chunk of metal and the other was gentle but firm on his leg, preventing Alec from kicking.

“Get ready, this time is going to hurt far more,” warned the man. His voice was deliciously smooth and low, music to Alec’s delirious ears. “Hit me if you must.”

There was not even a second to process before the iron was being wrenched out of his leg. Alec screamed. The man pushed bandages that seemed to come from nowhere onto Alec’s wounds.

“Please, try to be quiet,” the man soothed, one hand using a knife to cut away Alec’s trousers at the knee and the other clasping over Alec's lips. “I want to help you, but if you attract someone I’ll have to get out of here. A mundane doctor won’t be able to save you.”

It was all gibberish he couldn’t comprehend. But this voice was easing him. He muttered something and reached a hand out, fingers fluttering weakly, not sure what he wanted.

The man, having destroyed Alec’s trousers, was now hovering a hand over the wound. Some kind of blue light emitted from it. When it hit Alec’s torn up flesh, the feeling was cool and so pleasant. The pain subsided in an instant. Feeling more relaxed than he’d ever been, Alec let his head fall forward onto the man’s shoulder. He smelled like sandalwood and spices and incense and something dark and heady that made Alec blush. His eyes slowly shut.


	2. Fuzzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for a panic attack

-A-

“You have a death wish.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. Should I have just let him die?”

“Yes, that is exactly what you should have done.”

“He wouldn't have survived. I caused that explosion. Leaving him to bleed out would be on my hands. There’s many sins I’ll commit quite happily, but I refuse to murder.”

“Especially not young, attractive men, right?”

“I am offended by your implications.”

“My implication is you’re an idiot, Magnus! The biggest fool I’ve ever met. I absolutely will not have a part in your shenanigans anymore. You want to keep wolves in your den, fine. But don’t bring me over so I can be in danger too. You lured me in with promises of apologies and licorice tea, but fail to mention you have a witch hunter on your couch? I don't even smell any tea. There isn't any, is there Magnus? Just more fish!”

“Sweet little grass blade, you need to let me explain. First of all, he isn’t a witch hunter. I happened to be there when he and his friend were discussing taking the job. He’s a complete amateur. All he’s ever done is catch petty thieves and hunt wolves. He only took the guard job because he needs the money, they bullshitted their experience. You’re the first warlock he’s ever even seen. I don’t think he’s ever left Calderan. Second of all, the fish is gone. I told you it was for my friends, and they eat fast.”

“Forget the damn fish. So he’s an idiot too. And have you been stalking him?”

“Ragnor! It’s pretty noble of him to risk his life to provide for his family. You’ve never had to be a mundane that must sell their body to survive, so how dare you dare judge the acts of desperation they may make. You and I can just wave our hands and get all the food and shelter we need. He can’t do that.”

“Whatever, Magnus. I’m leaving before he wakes up and tries to kill us both, and you have to murder him anyway.”

“Ragnor, please wait. I assure you, he isn’t dangerous. The poor thing was dying when I brought him here, I thought I was going to lose him. He can’t even stand. What’s he going to do, bleed on you? He has hardly any left to bleed. Hear me out. He may be able to help us-“

“No, no, no NO! All of the worst days of my life began with you asking me to hear you out. I am not messing around with violent mundanes. You may think he’s adorable but I’m sure he’d _love_ to scoop out your pretty eyes and put them on a shelf. No! I am not getting involved. Not this time.”

“You think my eyes are pretty?”

A door slammed and Alec was jolted the rest of the way awake. He had no idea where he was. Breathing fast, he sat up, but this made his head spin and his vision black out for a moment. He noticed that his hands were tied together and he tried to pull the ropes apart, but they were unlike anything he’d ever seen. They appeared to be made of misty, blue light, yet somehow were solid and warm against his skin. No matter how hard he pulled they did not loosen.

“Hey, hey, settle down,” a voice he recognized, smooth and sweet as honey. A man came into Alec’s sight, steadying him with a hand on his arm, and Alec immediately recognized his yellow-green eyes. He radiated warmth like a comforting low fire. “You’ll hurt yourself. There’s nothing to fear. I promise you are safe here, darling.”

Alec stared, confused and in awe. The man looked young, maybe even his age. His russet, reddish-brown skin was unmarked and very clean, so unlike the other men his age Alec was used to who were often unwashed and with giant pores. His long, shiny black hair was bulled back into a mess of a bun, but a few strands were left free to frame his face, which was all sharp angles. A jawline that could slice beef, narrow nose, high cheekbones, and a chin sharp like a fox’s. A dark purple bruise marred one of his cheeks; despite this, he was inhumanly beautiful.

His eyes. God, _his eyes_. Alec was trapped in them like a rabbit in a snare. Exotic and with luxurious eyelashes, lined with smudged kohl, sitting under eyebrows that arched perfectly as if everything he communicated was sarcastic. Alec couldn’t call his irises plain green anymore, not now that he saw them this close. Darker green pine needles danced off the man’s feline pupils, and Alec could see flecks of saffron scattered around the mint edges of an emerald sea.

He’d never been this poetic about another person’s _eyes_. But he couldn’t help it, Alec blushed. All he could do was stare, aware of his mouth gaping slightly open.

“Are you alright?” the man asked. “Did you lose your ability to speak? You did lose a lot of blood, maybe brain damage is possible. No, wait-cat got your tongue?” At this, his lips spread into the most dazzling white smile Alec had ever seen. He found himself violently reminding himself that _this was a centuries-old demon who probably had a child for breakfast this morning_.

All of the tales about warlocks that Alec had been fed growing up had led him to believe they were absurd creatures, with horrifying deformed faces. Nothing had prepared him for how _devastatingly handsome_ this one was. Alec was not a homosexual. He was not attracted to a man right now. He was into girls, he just hadn’t found one he liked yet. Even more so, he was definitely not attracted to a demon.

“You’re a warlock!” Alec blurted out, affirming it to himself as he tried to escape away into the couch cushions.

That wicked smile widened, and the man looked at Alec like one watching a puppy doing something silly. “Astute observation, gorgeous.”

“Y-you’re Magnus Bane!”

“The one and only. Good job. No brain damage for you, hmm?” the warlock tapped a heavily ringed finger on Alec’s forehead, who yanked away.

“Don’t touch me, you disgusting demon!” Alec pulled hard at the magical ropes, to no avail. “What are you going to do with me? Let me go, you piece of shit.”

“Language, tch. What a strange way of thanking someone who just saved your life, what dialect is that?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re welcome!” Magnus turned away and began doing something at a table on the other side of the room. Alec heard glass clink and liquid splash.

They were in a dim tea room with the sort of furniture Alec had only seen in paintings. Embroidered covers, gold lace and painted wood, deep red walls, sturdy tables, and the lily print couch he’d been placed on was softer than his bed at home. Blue flames crackled in a massive brick fireplace. With an absent flick of Magnus’ hand, they roared up, filling the room with warmth as well as a strange scent he couldn’t place, something like pepper and cinnamon.

Leaning against the wall beside the fireplace was an engraved poker, twisted at its end.

The warlock wasn’t facing him, and Alec’s legs weren’t bound. He took his chance. Using his elbows to support himself, Alec pulled himself to his feet.

And immediately crumpled to the ground, gasping in pain.

A glass of water in hand, Magnus whirled around and stared at Alec, who was beginning to know the feeling of real terror. “What are you doing down there?” asked Magnus, perfect brows together. He set the glass back down on the small round table behind him, then moved towards Alec, reaching out his hand.

Prepared for the pain this time, Alec gained his feet again and rushed for the poker. His hands were tied at the wrist, loose enough to leave his palms and fingers free to grab it. It was awkward, but Alec was able to get a decent enough grasp. He swung it towards Magnus, who simply sent it flying out of Alec’s hands and into the fire with a bored twist of his wrist.

“What is your name?”

Without any kind of weapon, Alec, defeated, slumped against the brick of the fireplace. His body ached, every movement seeming to take everything he had. “Fuck you.”

“Can you say anything else? I like to leave profanities for under the sheets,” the corner of Magnus’ mouth curled up. “I like you. It’s rare to find a mundane so interesting, so spunky.”

“Fuck. You.”

“You’ve said that. If you’re really so desperate for it, I’ll give you whatever you want angel, but you're at least eighteen, right?”

“Where the hell am I?!"

“You can talk! You’re in one of my apartments.”

“Am I still in Calderan?”

“Yes, as is the rest of your crew. They’ve used that stupid excuse for a warlock of theirs to put wards over the city, to prevent anyone from coming or going, and they’ve been tearing it up looking for me,” Magnus said.

Alec frowned. “What do you mean, my crew?”

“The ‘Royal Dragon Army’, of course. Tacky name.”

“The-the what?”

“The army of mercenaries experienced in supernatural who have been hired by the king to destroy the dragon who allegedly declared war on humanity a few months ago?”

“The… what?”

Magnus blinked. “Well then. I assumed you’d signed on with them. I’m fairly sure that whole business was meant to be kept secret from the general public, too. Oops.”

“A dragon has called war on humanity?”

“ _Allegedly_ called war on humanity. Her name is Elianora. The Dragon Army is hell bent on capturing me, thinking I’ll just let them enslave me and use me to kill her,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “They won’t find this apartment, though, even if Ragnor sells me out. It’s hidden within cracks in reality, using magic far more complex than anything that old traitor is capable of. Cutting off your own warlock mark stunts your magic.”

“That’s not what you’re wanted for. Don’t think I haven’t heard of you, Magnus Bane.”

“Mmm, say my name in that tone some more,” Magnus grinned.

“You’re disgusting. You’ve slaughtered children, burned cities, you’re a rapist maniac, you’ve done horrible inhumane experiments. You’re the worst trash of the most evil of warlocks. There’s entire books written on your heinous crimes over the centuries.”

“Yeah, yeah, mothers tell their misbehaving youngsters that I’ll eat them, churches have wards specifically set up against me. I’m the most evil being to walk among men. I’ve heard all that,” Magnus waved his hand. “Tell me, do you believe it all?”

“Of course it’s true.”

“What proof have you been given?”

Alec faltered. “I… What are you talking about? You’re well known for everything you’ve done.”

“Have you ever seen photos of these cities I’ve burned? Ever seen listed the names of my victims? Or is it just all what you’ve been taught in school, what your kings tell you? Alec, you strike me as too intelligent to fall for slander that has nothing to back itself up.”

Alec wasn’t sure how to respond. Of course the warlock would deny everything. “How long was I out for?” he instead asked. “And how did you even get me here?”

“Well, there was the first night where I was busy using copious amounts of my own energy, to keep you going and help you survive without a transfusion. I blacked out at some point, not sure how long that was for but probably a day or so. When I woke up I was relieved to find it wasn’t for nothing and you survived, and that was two days ago. You’ve been in and out, mostly out. When you have been awake you haven’t really been in your head, mostly just staring at me and mumbling gibberish,” explained Magnus. “And how did I get you here? I’m the big, bad, evil warlock, remember? I got you here with magic. Made you appear to be a wagon of wood then I simply floated you behind me through the streets. You still haven’t told me your name. I’ve gone through a lot for you the past few days, the least you can do is tell me who I did it all for.”

“You said they have a warlock?”

Magnus groaned. “You’re a brat. Normally I love that, but we can’t do this today. I’m not answering any more of your questions until you give me a name.”

Alec hesitated. Would there be harm in telling him? Could warlocks do nefarious things with names? He wished he’d been better prepared for this. For all the books he’d read, not many had had much to do with the supernatural, it was a topic he’d thought would never have much to do with him.

“…Alec,” he said, hoping to never regret it.

“Alec…” He couldn’t place the warlock’s accent. It was like a mixture of every single one he’d ever heard plus a few other things. Flavorful, with an unusual, musical timing to every syllable, a pretty lilt to his vowels. Alec could listen to it all day. It was understandable why Bane was known for an ability to entrance, to talk his way into or out of anything. “Short for Alexander, I presume?”

Alec nodded, trying not to notice how _good_ his name sounded in Magnus’ mouth. It was rare that people addressed him by his full name, and usually he hated it, but…

“Well, Alexander, I have a proposition for you. Please, return to my couch,” Magnus said, patting the cushions beside him. “I worry you’ll reopen your wound. Besides, your eyes tell me you’re in pain. Come, have this water.”

Staring at the glass, Alec shifted. He looked around the room, disappointed to find that the only door was past Magnus. His throat was dry and he tried using his own spit to relieve it.

“I did say please, right? I’ll even untie you, if you promise to be civil. Or we can leave them tied if you’re into that,” Magnus added with a wink.

* * *

Sitting on a couch with a powerful infamous warlock wasn’t as terrifying as Alec expected. In fact, he was more annoyed than anything. Magnus Bane had strange intentions, seeming more focused on befriending Alec than dealing with the conflicts at hand, and not seeming to notice or care that Alec was hardly responding.

Hours had passed and Alec learned more than he needed about the history of fashion and amusing stories from the warlock’s past, but he still had little idea what was going on or if he’d ever be freed. It had been a while since he’d paid any attention to a word coming out of Magnus’ mouth.

“…which is probably the, admittedly justified, reason for them banning me and my next eight generations however-“

“What are you trying to do?”

“Huh?”

Alec glared. “Are you trying to buy time for something? Why keep me here just to talk me to death for hours?”

“You seem very alive to me, dear,” Magnus said, poking his cheek. Alec shoved him away. “Actually, it’s remarkable how fast your recovery has been. You really should have died without a transfusion, even with all that magic I put in you. Yet here you are, gaining more colour by the minute.”

“I’m not worth much of a ransom, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

Magnus laughed, high and joyful. “Ransom? Like money?” Unable to control his laughter, he turned away from Alec and sank back into the couch, hand over his heart. Alec sat, feeling awkward, _definitely not_ enjoying the sound of Magnus’ laugh. Once he could breathe again, Magnus turned those snaring eyes back on him. “Alexander, I’m a thousand years old. I’ve conquered the lottery of birth and made capitalism my sub. Money will never be a problem for me, I’m far too privileged for that.”

Alec looked away. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he replied through grit teeth. “But some of us weren’t born so lucky. Every second you keep me away from my family hurts their chances of survival.”

Out of his peripheral vision, Alec saw Magnus’ face fall. If he didn’t know better about the manipulative ways of demons, he would think that was empathy in the warlock’s eyes. After a few silent, heavy moments, Magnus straightened, and focused intently on his own hands. Several odd movements of his long agile fingers, and a melon sized leather bag appeared in them. He offered it to Alec.

“From my position, it is easy to forget how precious of a resource time is for many,” he said. “I can’t let you go just yet, Alexander, but I do feel badly about this entire situation. Please, take this as compensation.”

Alec studied the bag, hands tightly folded in his lap. It was tied with a scarlet piece of cloth, but had been left slightly open. Within it, he could see a flash of shiny gold. The bag clinked as Magnus ushered it towards him again. He knew what it was, had a very good idea of how it could change Max and Isabelle's life. He rose his right hand, fingers outstretched and eyes wide-then pulled it back.

Books couldn’t have prepared him for just how cunning a real warlock was.

“Fuck you.”

Magnus’ eyebrows went up, his slit pupils widened like a kitten that had just been scolded. “Back to that?”

“You think it’s that easy to trick me? To get me to sell you my soul or something?”

“Alexander,” Magnus breathed. “That genuinely isn’t my intention here.”

“I don’t care what you want to claim your intentions are. You’re Magnus Bane. You murdered your own mother. Burned down your birth village. That’s not even the worst of what you’ve done,” Alec spat. “Don’t think I’m naive and haven’t heard about you. You’ve done such despicable things, I didn’t even believe you were real until I met you. And here you are, bragging about how rich your exploits have made you.”

“That Magnus Bane is _not_ real, Alexander. _I_ am.” A shiver went up Alec’s spine. Before, it had been hard to fathom that he was speaking to a warlock of legend. Magnus’ voice was pretty, he had charisma, his eyes sparkled when he laughed, and his words almost coaxed Alec to laugh, too. He seemed like a schoolboy, even reminding him of Jace at times. No way could someone so powerful speak in such a lighthearted tone, and flirt with Alec like he was an equal. But _this_ side he was seeing, these dark eyes, low growl of a voice, crackle of blue electricity in his hands-this was a believable Magnus Bane. Alec worried he’d made a life threatening mistake.

“Then make me believe it,” responded Alec. He didn’t really understand what he was saying, only that he needed to get out of here as soon as possible. “Stop fooling around. What is the purpose of all this?”

“I wanted to save your life. That’s it.”

“How does that benefit you?”

Magnus scrunched up his nose. “Cynicism is a poison in a brilliant mind,” he said. “But I regret, I must reinforce it for you today.”

“So there _is_ something more to this.”

“Saving your life gave the Dragon Army’s pet warlock time to erect a ward around the city. Nobody goes in or out. I could have escaped and been across the world by now if I let you die,” explained Magnus.

“Why help me, then?”

“Indeed, why? What could _possibly_ be the reason for endangering and trapping myself in order to prevent a stranger’s death? What could I have gained by nearly dying myself from overexertion in my attempt to save you? Why would the evil tale of Magnus Bane you’ve been fed do that?”

Alec swallowed. “I…” he was finding it difficult to continue meeting the intensity of Magnus’ look. “So that you could…”

“Hmm?”

With a sigh, Alec admitted, “I don’t know.”

“A moral obligation couldn’t have anything to do with it?”

Alec scoffed. “I don’t know your plan. That doesn’t mean it’s anything ethical.”

Magnus threw his hands up and rose to his feet. A glass of something clear had appeared in his hand as he began to pace. “Mortals are infuriating, but you really take the cake.”

“I still want to go home.”

“So do I, Alexander,” Magnus drank deeply.

“If you’re so superior to their ‘pet’, why not just break through his ward and get out?”

“A drunk teenager could do so with a good sized stick. But if one section goes down, with this kind of ward, the whole thing shatters. A huge alarm bell. And a warlock can feel exactly where a break in his wards came from. They’d be on me in hours, and I don’t like my odds in that scenario. I'm way outnumbered, I have no friends in this wretched city.”

“So where does holding me against my will come into this?”

Magnus shrugged. “A long-shot plan. I wait a while. Let everyone get nice and worried about you, more hopeless. That ruins judgment. Then I appear in public with you. Everyone is so grateful you’re alive. They were scared you were dead. So scared, there’s a lot they’ll agree to to continue keeping you not dead.”

“You’re going to use me as a hostage.”

“Precisely.”

Alec frowned. “It won’t work.”

Magnus was back to being irritated. “Of course it will. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe if I was a noble, or a knight. Someone who mattered. I don’t. Your value outweighs mine by a long shot.”

“So your people would let you die, to get me?”

Alec nodded. “You’re more important.”

Magnus’ eyes clouded. “And you call me disgusting.”

“Catching a terrorist isn’t monstrous.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Magnus turned away. “God, you must be sick of the taste of boot polish.”

Alec stood, surprised to find that he did so with ease. There was no more excruciating pain, it was more of a manageable, dull ache. His knees didn’t want to buckle. Magnus’ magic had done him well. Was this his chance?

Warlocks weren’t invulnerable. They needed to be able to move their hands to use magic, he knew that much. And they could die of a wound just like anyone else. So all Alec needed to do was take the warlock by surprise and physically overpower him. Magnus was slim, and shorter than Alec. This could be easy.

Rushing up behind him, Alec grabbed Magnus by the elbows and yanked back his arms. Glass shattered and his drink hit the floor. Alec tried to hold Magnus’ forearms together behind him, but was surprised by the demon’s strength. He was pushed sideways, and both of them fell in their struggle, Magnus on his knees. Alec threw his own weight forward, forcing Magnus onto his stomach, wrists crossed against his back. Alec held the warlock down with a knee and reached for one of the shards of glass. He held it to Magnus’ throat.

“You’re mortal just like I am,” Alec growled.

“You’re right,” Magnus said. He had gone still, eyes closed. “I’m just trying to survive. Can you blame me?”

“When the method hurts people I care about, yeah. You go out there and hold me as a hostage, they’ll laugh in your face, and then when you kill me my family will...”

Magnus sighed. “I don’t want to kill you. I won’t. I’m hoping they won’t call out my bluff.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Magnus threw his head back. His skull connected with Alec’s face, who rolled off in shock, tasting blood and seeing stars. Before Alec could regain his vision, Magnus was on him, holding him to floor by the neck. A ball of misty blue magic grew in his other hand. Alec tried to struggle, but Magnus was stronger than he expected. Sure he was slim, but under his dark clothing were hard muscles. He was built like a panther, not the housecat Alec thought he was. Any movement of Alec’s only made it harder to breathe. When he started to cough and choke, Magnus let up a little.

“I hate this,” murmured Magnus. “When are humans going to learn? Not understanding something, fearing something, doesn’t mean it must be evil... Alexander, are you alright?”

An entire deer seemed to be inside Alec's throat. If only he’d never taken this job. He was going to die now, leaving Jace alone with the burden of caring for the younger Lightwoods. Was Jace even still alive? Alec had survived the explosion by sheer luck, what if the others hadn’t been so fortunate?

He could feel his breath getting away from him, his lungs going into overdrive. Not again, not now. This was the worst timing for one of these attacks. He lost vision. Who would take care of his family with both Jace and him gone? Who would stop his mother from selling Isabelle like cattle? Would that life destroy her, like so many of the girls he’d grown up with who became shells of themselves? What would happen to Max? Who-

* * *

Fire. Lemon. Incense. And dark, fruity wood.

The smell was intoxicating. Alec parted his lips to get more of it, felt his mouth water. He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to lose this dream. Not much good had come into his life, so sometimes it was hard to resist the little things. He rolled his shoulders, confused when they weren’t met with the soft resistance of his bed. Actually, coming to, he realized no part of his back felt anything beneath it. It was as though he was lying on air. His eyes flew open and he shouted in surprise.

“Oh thank god, you’re awake.”

Alec _was_ lying on air. He was floating a couple feet above the ground. In front of him stood Magnus, holding up a magic soaked hand. He was shaking.

“Put me down!”

Magnus rolled his eyes and dropped him, Alec hitting the cold hard ground with a thump.

As he recovered, he saw Magnus lean over him. The amazing smell wasn’t a dream, it was coming from Magnus, who looked very different. His clothing was much more elaborate, deep red covered in silver and white patterns and symbols Alec had never seen before and made of shimmering, loose fitting fabric. He had on dozens of golden bracelets and necklaces, and multiple jeweled earrings in both ears. Small bits of silver dust in his hair caught the light and sparkled like hundreds of stars. Extra kohl was around his eyes, tapering to high points at the edges, extending his already high cheekbones and giving him the appearance of some flamboyant god. The neckline of his shirt plunged… and Alec was once again reminding himself he liked girls. Human girls. What was he doing?

“Are you done staring? I feel a bit objectified.”

Alec sputtered and tried to get up, but found it was impossible to move. “What did you do to me?”

“A little spell to keep you from misbehaving again. It’s not permanent. But the passing out? That was all you. I thought you died of fright. That can happen to small animals,” Magnus paused. “I’m glad you aren’t a small animal.”

Alec looked around. He knew this street, during the day it was set up with a busy market. Now it was empty, the stalls shuttered and locked. Light illuminated the cobblestone from a floating orb that hovered around Magnus’ shoulder. Above, the stars and moon were wobbling and distorted, as though they were deep underwater. “Where are you taking me?”

Magnus helped Alec to his feet. He found he could walk, but only if it was to follow to Magnus.

“Does that happen to you often?” Magnus’ voice was quiet as he walked a few feet ahead.

“What, getting kidnapped? First time.”

Alec thought he caught the side of a smile on the warlock’s face. “No, I mean passing out like you did an hour ago,” he said. “You crunched your eyes shut and you were, like, hyperventilating. You didn’t hear anything I said. I even got off you completely, I thought I hurt you, yet you didn’t react. Then you were just… out.”

Alec swallowed. It had happened before, many times. But that wasn’t something he wanted Magnus knowing about. Always it would come when too much was happening, when the Lightwoods were hit with too many problems at once and all the fear consumed him, made him feel tiny and drowned him. Usually, he had Jace to help. His brash friend would become gentle, and Alec would come to in his lap, soothing fingers playing invisible piano chords on his chest or carting through his hair. Jace never mocked him for it or told anyone. Their theory was there was something wrong with Alec’s heart or lungs, which was worsened by stress.

“I understand why you might not want to talk about it. Your culture has never been good at understanding or appreciating these things. I've seen it before,” continued Magnus. “Ignore it, and it only becomes worse. Discussing it with someone you trust can help.”

Alec’s voice shook. “You choked me until I passed out.”

Magnus sighed. “Fine. Please talk to someone, though.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Alec decided to try again. “Where are we going?”

Magnus shrugged.

“You don’t even know?”

“I don’t know this city. I do know everyone is looking for me and we’re bound to run into a patrol soon. This light will give us away.”

“You want to be caught? What’s that going to accomplish?”

“I didn’t say I want to be. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, Alec,” Magnus sounded tired. “I don’t see a way out of this though. I ran a thousand scenarios through my head and in every single one I still end up in chains. So I’m just. I don’t know, I’m just going with it. They’re not going to kill me, they need me for that dragon.”

“How have you escaped capture all these years?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Luck? Good connections? Smooth talking and dashing good looks? I don’t know. Though, I'm sick of it all.”

“So you’re just going to… surrender?”

“I’ll try the hostage route and if they call my bluff about killing you, yeah. I guess. What else am I going to do, Alexander? Blow the whole city up? I’m not getting out of this one, I’m cornered. Maybe I can figure out how to teleport myself.”

Each of Alec’s feet were placed in front of the other like he’d been possessed. No effort of his own went into the process, and he couldn’t break out of it. He could move his head and eyes, but the rest of his body wasn't under his control. In a strange way, it was a relief, letting someone else be in charge of whatever happened next.

“You can control another person’s entire body but you can’t teleport things? I thought warlocks could.”

Magnus hummed. “We can, but only inanimate objects. It essentially works by making a copy of the molecular makeup of the item, destroying it, and then rebuilding it somewhere else. If you try to do that with something living it’ll die in the process. We haven’t figured out what souls are made out of.”

“Molewhat makeup?” Alec was completely lost.

“Ah, I forget sometimes how behind humans are on their understanding of the world. You’ll get there in a few centuries, I’m sure. Anyways, why didn’t you kill me earlier? You had a shard of glass to my throat and plenty of time. I've been confused about that this whole time."

Alec listened. He could hear something in the distance. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“I’m hardly anyone. I’m a heinous disgusting demon, remember?”

There was a fork in the street ahead, and as they neared it the sound grew louder, becoming defined clanking and the rhythm of many boots slapping on stone. Alec started yelling. “Hey! Here, come over here! He’s-“

Magnus swore and put a hand over Alec’s mouth, pulling him back. The warlock looked around frantically, trying to place the noise which bounced around the narrow chasm of buildings. He swore again. “Way to ruin my element of surprise.” Alec bit his hand, which only made his grip tighten.

The pace of the boots turned to running, and now a dozen or so men emerged from around the corner. At the front was Philip, dwarfing the others. The beady eyes of the werewolf on his pauldron seemed to come alive in the moonlight. Philip’s gaze immediately zeroed in on Magnus and he drew a crossbow. Behind him, his men spread out across the street. All were dressed in a similar fashion to their leader, haphazard arrangements of fur and pieces of supernatural creatures, looking almost supernatural and wild themselves. Alec was sure their appearance alone gained many a surrender, but Magnus stood defiant, plucking a jeweled knife from the air and holding it to Alec’s throat. He took his hand away from Alec’s mouth and in a flash, wrapped cords of blue mist around the younger man’s body.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Magnus’ voice projected clear into the night, commanding attention, no longer the schoolboy who’d been hellbent on making Alec blush.

Philip grinned. “Good evenin’. This you giving up?”

Alec felt Magnus shake his head. “Not this time, old friend. I believe this man belongs to you?”

Philip studied Alec’s face. “Mmm. Not exactly one of mine. You were at the prison, eh lad?”

“Yeah,” replied Alec, then added, “It was only supposed to be one-day thing.”

“Not the easy cash so many of you turned up for, ha! Now you’ve got a whole story to go with it. What’s this kitty up to?”

“I’m offering Alec’s life in exchange-“

“I MUST BE GOIN’ SENILE, BECAUSE I DON’T REMEMBER ASKING _YOU_ ,” Philip’s voice changed completely when he addressed Magnus.

“My hostage isn’t-“

“ONE MORE WORD AND THIS BOLT IS GOIN’ IN YOUR HEAD, BITCH.”

Alec thought Isabelle had a temper. Magnus just sighed.

“Here’s how things are going to be, demon. I ask the kid questions, the kid responds. You, shut the fuck up and keep it that way. Right then,” continued Philip. “Kid, what’s your name?”

“Alec,” he said, happy to give Philip anything to call him aside from _kid_.

“What’s the kitty up to, did he tell you?”

“He’s trying to use me as a hostage, to get you to let him leave the city... He also mentioned he’s not actually going to kill me and if you call his bluff I think he’ll probably just surrender.”

Magnus made a betrayed sound. Under his breath, he muttered, "Should've gagged you."

Philip’s laughter came from deep inside and spread like wildfire through the rest of his group. “In that case, pussycat, your offer is denied. Permission to speak.”

Magnus held the knife tighter against Alec’s throat, and Alec felt a thin sting and wetness. Against his back, Magnus’s heart was hammering. “You want this boy’s blood on your hands?”

Philip let the crossbow fall to his side and strode forward. “You ain’t got it in you. Always been the same, Maggie. You don’t kill pretty things until you’ve destroyed them on the inside first.”

Alec was free from magic and blade, pushed forward hard enough that his hands hit the ground, scraping his palms on the rough street. He looked behind him, rubbing the thin nip on his throat, in time to see Magnus whirl around and try to run in the opposite direction-only to slam into another wall of bone-cladded mercenaries. He tried to get away, but a brown haired man used one meaty hand to grab Magnus by the hairbun, swiftly snapping a heavy metal collar around the warlock’s neck. It was fitted to a heavy chain, and the mercenary pulled hard on it so that Magnus was sprawled on his stomach on the street.

Magnus forced his palms towards the man. After a few seconds of simply holding them there, he frowned, then tried again, thrusting his hands like some strange dance move. Laughter again went through the crowd.

“It works!” the brown haired man cheered, showing yellow teeth which were missing a canine.

For the first time, Alec saw genuine fear in Magnus’s eyes.

“Took a loooottt of convincing to get me to have a warlock on our side,” said Philip. “I still don’t trust it. But I gotta admit, the thing’s come in handy. That there collar is something. Traps all the demon energy in.” He helped Alec to his feet. Alec was tall himself, but Philip made him feel like a small child, lifting him with one hand as though he weighed nothing. He brushed off Alec’s shoulders, almost knocking him over again with the strength. Curly red hair coated his dirty knuckles, and the older man reeked of booze.

“So, Alec, ye managed to survive. Caught Magnus Bane, too.”

“He caught me,” Alec glanced at Magnus, still on the ground. Everyone seemed to be waiting on Philip to decide what happened next, but he took his time. Magnus glared at Alec, and Alec glared back. None of this was his fault.

“Ah, but in the end it all turned out the same, right?” replied Philip. "Say, you friends with an annoying blond kid, ‘bout this high?” He held a thick hand next to his waist.

“Jace isn’t _that_ short. Is he okay?”

“His body’s okay. Dunno about the head though. Boy’s been harassin’ me and my team like a flea, askin’ what happened to ye. I told him, you’re dead in the rubble most like, but every coupla hours bastard’s back,” Philip said. “’Where’s Alec, where’s Alec?’ I tell him I don’t know no fuckin’ Alec. He doesn’t listen.”

“Sounds to me like his head is normal.”

Philip clasped Alec’s shoulder, hard enough of a grip to hurt but Alec did his best to pretend not to notice. “Listen kid, I’m good at judging by the cover. And I like the look of ya. Plus, ye handled yourself well in this. Most men would shit their trousers to death, being held by a fuckin’ Greater Demon like that. You didn't even sweat.”

“Um, thanks?”

“You looking for a job? The pay would make you and yer kin live like nobles,” Philip said. “I can’t say much ‘bout it until you agree, but you’d get to travel all over the place. It’s employment from the king so desertion means a hangin’ but some of the pay is upfront, and even that's enough to end any worries your family may have. Hard to turn down with this blight goin’ around, eh?”

Alec remembered what Magnus said before. The Dragon Army, tasked to wage war on a dragon using Magnus. Could Alec handle something like that? How does one prepare to go up against a dragon? If the legends were true, they could be the size of mountains. An exhale and they could melt your skin off, if they didn’t simply use powerful mind magic to drive you insane and make you face your worst fears. Their ability to control the mind let them destroy a man without even needing to use their razor sharp claws, powerful spiked club tails, or knives for teeth. Some dragons were very small and dumb, unable to fly or breathe fire, and even farmed like cattle in some places for good leather and tough meat. Others were closer to gods. Alec felt it wouldn’t be the former that they would be up against.

“I’m not sure. My family needs me, our business is going down and-“

“Blast your business. With the amount of pay I’m talking here, they’d never need you again. It’s your species that needs you more, boy. You’d be helpin’ to save it.”

“How much?”

“The upfront? Enough to buy one of them hundred-room downtown noblepeople inns and run it for a couple years. The rest? You’ll be able to retire after all’s said and done. Lifetime monthly bags o’ gold.”

Alec turned it over in his mind. A lifetime of wages… if he lived. Still, there was no other way he would make this kind of money-he could send the kids out of the city and into the countryside, away from the Plague until everything blew over. Perhaps Maryse could even live her dream of returning to her home country, far in the East.

Even if Alec never returned with the rest of the pay, they'd probably be okay. But he couldn’t do this without Jace.

“The, uh, the ‘annoying blond’. Would you hire him, too?”

“Package deal, eh? He your brother?”

Alec shrugged. “In a sense.”

“Screw it,” Philip waved his hand. “Persistence like his is good on a job like this. Sure, he can come.”

“And we’d both be paid the same amount?”

“Of course, I’m not runnin’ a slave operation here.”

Alec hesitated, wanting to give in to the waves roaring in his ears. He had to do this. Even if it did mean his death. Max, Isabelle, and his parents, they were his life purpose. “Deal, then.”

“You’re not gonna check with ‘im first?”

“I know he’ll say yes.”

“What’s your last name, kid?”

“Lightwood.”

Philip grinned and shook his head. “Well then, Alec Lightwood. Welcome to the Royal Dragon Army.”


	3. Gold

-A-

Maryse snatched the bag of gold up in her claws the moment it was presented to her, and brought it to the dinner table, upending it and beginning to count the coins. Alec told her he would be departing for a while and she nodded once without looking up, leaving him to wonder if she even absorbed what he said. For the first time in years, her eyes and smile shone truly, glinting like the currency running through her fingers. The general store kept them alive and Alec and Jace’s mercenary exploits kept them decently, but none of the work had ever brought them bags like this.

Robert Lightwood was a different story. He stared wide-eyed at the money, as if waiting for it to bite his wife’s fingertips. “What did you do?” he asked in a very small voice.

“I’ve been accepted into the king’s autumn hunting party this year,” said Alec. “Jace, too. We will probably be gone until winter, maybe longer if we get caught out there.”

“The same ‘hunting party’ that requires Magnus Bane?”

Alec looked at his father in shock.

Robert’s voice shook. “I’m a merchant. My son, despite his terrible bar crawl lie, was kidnapped by a warlock for days. I used my connections to learn what I needed.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“Come on Alec, since when do you drink? No way would you have spent nearly a week getting blackout drunk, without Jace,” Robert replied. Alec had to admit he had him there. “It would have been Jace’s idea.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about the job,” Alec sighed. “I’ve even been forbidden to talk about the whole vanishing for days thing.”

Alec’s father studied his face. “Are you okay? You’re limping. Did he hurt you?”

Drumming his own digits against his leg, Alec watched his mother count and sort. “No. I mean, he did, but he’s acting like he didn’t mean to. I was injured, and he helped me.”

“So he could use you.”

Frowning, Alec left the kitchen, motioning for Robert to follow him into the simple bedroom Alec shared with Max. Two identical beds with scratchy brown blankets stood against the walls, a beat up black dresser between them. Faded mint paint peeled and bulged from the walls, and a single closed window above Alec’s bed let in tons of afternoon light. He took it all in. Tonight would be the last night he slept her for a while. Maybe even ever.

Robert shut the door behind him and sat on Max’s bed. Alec stood, leaning back against the dresser.

“Magnus would have escaped with a head start if he left me for dead. He was trapped because he stopped to make sure I lived.”

His father blinked. “I wonder what he got out of that.”

“Nothing, it seems. It put him back,” shaking his head, Alec continued, “He claimed it was his moral obligation, or something.”

Robert shook his head and sighed. “Who knows what kind of very messed up reasons he had for doing that, Alec.”

“Like what?”

“Well, he’s…” his father’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You know that he’s…?”

Alec raised an eyebrow.

Robert swallowed. “He… Alec, this is Magnus Bane,” he said as if that explained everything. “Did you wake up with any… Well, did you hurt anywhere?”

Alec frowned. “I had a giant hunk of metal taken out of my leg. That hurt a bit.”

“I mean… Alec, it may be embarrassing for you to talk about,” Robert was turning red. “But, well, he’s a demon. They’re known for… _He’s_ known for his lustful ways. Gender doesn’t matter to him, either.”

Alec’s mouth fell open. “I-he-dad, no. That didn’t happen. When I was waking up, I heard him arguing with his friend. He said he helped me because he didn’t want my death on his conscience.”

“The same Magnus Bane who has genocide on his conscience?”

“I don’t understand any of this either. He’s claiming that the legends about him are all false.”

“Well of course he would say that,” scoffed Robert. “Don’t tell me you believe him.”

Alec looked away. “I don’t.”

Robert sighed again and put his face in his hands. “Alec, promise me you aren’t taking this job for the wrong reasons. Listen, I know you, and I’ve noticed things about you. I know you don’t want a wife and I can accept that part of you, but a demon-“

“We need the money,” Alec interrupted quickly. “The Plague is close by. Our supplier shut down. The only future in Calderan is a short and miserable one.”

Robert was now massaging his forehead with the balls of his hands. “Alec, this isn’t your problem.”

“You and mother don’t have a plan,” Alec shot back.

When Robert looked up, his eyes were wet. “You really have that little faith in us?”

“Who’s been taking care of this family for over a decade? Balancing the books for the shop, keeping mother from spending all our food money? Who’s been making sure the chores are done? Walking the kids to and from school every day?”

“…Alec, I…”

“Who’s been dressing Max and Isabelle every morning? Who’s been dealing with their bullies, nursing them when they’re sick? Who’s shoulder have they been crying on? Who do they go to for advice?”

Robert was avoiding eye contact now.

“Max was given a black eye a few weeks ago and you didn’t even _notice_.”

“I noticed, I just didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to embarrass him. If he wanted to talk, he’d come to me!”

“He did want to talk, so he came to _me_ ,” growled Alec. “Guess who tracked down all five of the boys who surrounded him and made them wet their pants? You can thank Jace for that one. Shall I start listing all the things he does for this family, too?”

“I think I get the point,” replied Robert.

“I’m going to be away for months. This means your vacation from parenting is over. You are _not_ going to abandon those two.”

“I understand, but-“

“There’s a chance I might not return at all,” stated Alec. “I want to know I can have a peaceful death and not worry my _thirteen year old sister_ will be sold to some creepy old man.”

“You know I would have never actually let Maryse do that. I was going to stop her.”

“Would you? In my whole life I have never seen you stand up against that woman. Time to start. Your children need you.”

“Okay. You’re right, Alec.”

“If you let them down, I wish the guilt kills you.”

“Gods, Alec, I get it.”

“You don’t have a choice. Clarissa, Jace’s girlfriend, we gave her the heads up. She’s going to help out around here with occasional babysitting while you and mom organize to leave the city. If she’s given any reason suspect you’re neglecting them, she will be taking the kids herself. And you know you can’t stop them from going with her. You’re getting one chance.”

It was silent for a few minutes, as Alec stared out the window. They lived in a small apartment above the store, and his window looked down on the alleyway behind the building. In the past, this had been useful as he could easily be woken up by deliverymen who came around the back in the dark hours of the morning. Now, there was only a black cat pawing through some slop. He thought of Magnus.

“Promise me something in return, Alec. I know I don’t have much of a right to ask.”

Alec turned away from the window the fix his father with a glare. “You absolutely don’t.”

“I’ll take care of Max and Isabelle. I’ll get us out of the city. You have my word,” said Robert. “You just… take care of yourself, please. Don’t try to befriend this warlock.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“When you were twelve you tried to befriend a rabid dog thinking you could still train it, save it. Don’t let him trick you into thinking he has goodness inside. I really have no idea why he saved you, but most likely, it’s part of something bigger. They’re cunning masters of deceit, trust not a word he says,” Robert said. “No matter how friendly he seems, how human he may appear, his soul is demonic. They only inherit the evil parts of their human parent. The greed, the envy. They understand how to trick us, how to make us think they even love us. If he becomes easy to believe, just focus on his demon mark. That is where you will see who he really is.”

“I won’t let him get in my head,” Alec promised. “Should we tell mother where I’m going?”

“And have you hung when the whole country hears about it? No, I’ll give her the hunting story. She won’t care about the specifics, only the gold.”

Alec exhaled. “How did you fall in love with her?”

“She wasn’t always this way,” Robert Lightwood shut his eyes, thousands of miles away for a moment. Then the moment passed and he snapped open cleared green eyes. “I’ll miss you Alec. You’re more like her than me, if you can believe it. Don’t let the world do to you what it did to her.”

\----------

_“We move on the day after tomorrow at dawn,” Philip had explained. “Our company’s set up outside the northern gates-that’s the way we’ll head. Won’t be able to miss us. Bring a horse, if you’ve got one. I recommend buying one if ye don’t.”_

Alec and Jace had expected maybe thirty men. Outside the gates, clustered against the city walls, were dozens of tents. Countless horses. Over everything hung a cloud of cooking smoke and the most pervasive scent of sweat and feces he’d ever encountered. The men came from all backgrounds. Many wore the now familiar style of decorated armor donned by Philip and his closest comrades. Others were clearly not part of this crew, mismatched pieces of humans presumably picked up along the way. A rainbow of flesh tones, clean clothes and dirty ones, silky noblemen blouses and scratched up fur armor. One man wore an entire armor set made of hundreds of bones, including an enormous feline skull over his head that had long curving fangs emerging from the mouth to protect his jaw. He rattled as he walked by the boys and their newly bought horses, simple clothes, leather gauntlets and short-swords.

The camp was alive with activity, everywhere were people packing up tents, cookware and food, small stools and benches, bedrolls, weapons, firewood, and throwing skins of water on their smoldering flames. The ground beneath it all was trodden like a freshly plowed farm, the long wild grass that had grown there now beaten into unrecognizable dust. It was still dark, but hundreds of lanterns lit the army as well as noon.

Somehow, Philip found them among the chaos.

“Congrats, boys. You’re the only two from your city I offered this job to who’ve actually shown up.”

Alec wondered how he could tell in this crowd.

“How close are we to the dragon? Have you ever fought one before? Is it true their blood is hot enough to turn you to ash?” Jace all but pounced on Philip with excitement.

“I’m feelin’ this energy and I love it,” boomed Philip. “Lemme introduce yous to your tentmates.”

Alec held the reins of both bay horses, trying to think of names for them, while Jace walked alongside Philip and spoke at breakneck speed.

“I’ve never been much into archery, that was always Alec’s thing, should I learn? I mean, dragons fly right? Or, some do. Does this one? Or is it like a chicken, just fluttering up for a few seconds? Will I even have time to learn how to use a bow?”

“Learn everything ye can,” Philip replied. “I mean that in every way. Got a lotta good men here. Lotta specialties. Take advantage. Well-rounded men are wealthy and living men.”

“You weren’t kidding when you called this an army. How many guys are here? A hundred, a thousand? More?”

“Six hundred and forty-five,” Philip replied, then, looking between Alec and Jace, he corrected himself. “Six hundred and forty- _seven_.”

Jace looked like a dog that had just been given a platter of raw beef. “Six hundred and forty-five other mercenaries. I’ve barely met ten in my entire life. The techniques I could learn here…”

“And we’ll only keep growin’,” Philip said, showing all of his yellow teeth.

Alec was not as excited by the size of the Royal Dragon Army. Unsettled was more like it. This many men, all being paid well enough to care for their families for life. No knights. And this wasn’t even enough? They needed to grow?

“How big is the dragon?” asked Alec in a quiet voice.

Philip stared straight ahead. “So you can talk.”

“I’m just wondering.”

“She’s big enough. Look, here’s your tent. Wh-They haven’t even started tearin’ it down! The fuck are you doing, lads?”

Alec and Jace would be sharing their tent with a pair of twins a year younger than them. Royce and Malcolm had local accents, brown eyes, tawny thin face and straight, greasy black hair. Royce’s was much longer, falling to his shoulders, a relief to Alec who otherwise felt he was seeing double. Maclolm and Jace immediately began discussing swords, the bounties they’d won, the small village nearby that the twins came from, the excitement of the road ahead, and, eventually, women. The whole time Alec and Royce said nothing, freeing the tent poles from the earth and rolling the fabric into a pack which was then clipped onto Royce’s saddle.

“It’s heavy for the horse. We’ve been alternating who carries it daily. Tomorrow, your turn,” the long-haired boy stated.

Nodding, Alec returned to their two horses, waiting patiently, their breath creating clouds in the chilly early morning air. One snorted and nosed his chest, and he decided her name would be Calder. The other one was up to Jace.

Grey sunlight was struggling to throw itself over the group as they finished packing up. For a bunch of smelly loud men, Alec had to admire the efficiency with which the cleared the area. A few had already mounted their horses and begun to move, so Alec left behind his tentmates and tried out his new mare. Her saddle was laden with dried meat, furs, a whetstone, two waterskins, and several bags of oats, as well as Alec himself, but Calder didn’t seem to mind. She carried him ahead with her snout high, huge eyes taking everything in with interest, not even flinching when an wheelbarrow unbalanced and overturned clangy metal pots onto the destroyed grass beside them.

The seller told them these horses were sisters, and had been bred and raised for war. Alec was no equine expert, but he could see it. Not just in her temperament, but in the well defined muscles that rippled under her bay coat, and her smooth gait which let him focus on his surroundings instead of on staying ontop of her.

Now finding himself at the front of the group, Alec heard shouting. He followed the noise to a circle gathering around something he could not yet see. Ears suddenly pricked, Calder stepped towards the crowd without him even having to signal to her. The horse remained at the edge, watching with a curious eye, warily sniffing the air.

The mercenaries were cheering and laughing, some punching the air. He was glad he was atop a horse, because the crowd was several deep and smelled like a street gutter. He could see over everything from his spot above them. What he saw, made his heart drop.

Magnus wore nothing but a ratty pair of trousers and a potato sack tied over his head. His feet were bare, his hands tied behind his back, and the iron collar around his neck left angry red chafed flesh. His toned body darkened in many places with huge bruises, and his back sported deep, vertical slashes under dried blood mixed with dirt, woodchips and feathers.

The end of his chain was attached to the bridle of a grey horse. It’s eyes rolled, showing the white, as it galloped circles around the edge of the circle, egged on by hard slaps to its rump and the yells of the audience. Magnus staggered after it, the chain pulled tight. Sometimes he would try to call it and plant his feet, but the terrified horse wouldn’t sotp running, and Magnus couldn’t see where it was going.

The warlock lost his balance and was dragged on his stomach. He struggled, rolled onto his back to protect his face, but this just opened the wounds there and his tight, single scream coaxed another round of laughter from the men watching. A path of dark blood showed where the horse dragged him. Alec had seen young boys torture stray cats before and he couldn’t watch it then. He wouldn’t watch this, either.

After dismounting Calder and pulling his shirt over his nose to hide from the stench of urine, vomit, and worse, Alec shouldered his way through. The crowd quieted as he jogged up to the horse and grabbed it by the mane. It screamed and threw its head, turning away, threatening to knock over Alec, but wherever it tried to go, there he was, murmuring and shushing. The horse only calmed a little, not running anymore but constantly spinning, its body tense and refusing to stay still. Before long, he realized horse taming wasn’t going to be the job for him, so he improvised. He grabbed the nose roughly and quickly undid the fasteners on its bridle, letting Magnus’s chain fall to the ground. Now free, the horse escaped his harassment and resumed cantering circles around the inside of the crowd, snorting and tossing its head. That, its hooves thudding, and the wind, were the only sounds.

Magnus lay in the dirt panting. Every man stared at Alec. Some glaring, some raising innocent eyebrows, most of them visibly annoyed.

Alec stood over Magnus and stared back at every single one of them.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” he asked them. “Leave the poor horse alone.”

The crowd broke up and began to shamble away, finding their wagons and horses and travel buddies. A red-haired man picked the bridle up from where Alec tossed it and began trying to catch the spooked horse. There was a lot of grumbling, but nobody addressed Alec directly. He hoped he hadn’t just made the next few months very hard for himself. Not that he planned to talk to anyone but Jace, anyways.

Defiant, he watched the men go, then once they had moved on, he turned his back on them and crouched next to Magnus. The warlock wasn’t moving anymore.

“You still alive?” asked Alec.

Magnus was breathing, at least. Alec untied and eased the potato sack off his head, and Magnus squinted, his pupils becoming thin lines in the sudden light. A dirty wet rag had been forced into his mouth and tied tight behind his head. Alec lifted the warlock’s head and undid the knot, throwing the rag away. Immediately, Magnus rolled onto his side and started coughing and heaving.

“I’m fine,” he managed. His voice, previously so smooth and confident, was a dry, tired rasp. New bruises coated his cheekbones, and bags were forming under his eyes.

“By the Angel,” swore Alec. “It’s only been a day and they’ve messed you up this bad.”

Magnus coughed some more. “Water?”

Alec rose and went over to his horse, who had wandered a little closer but was keeping her distance from Magnus. She tried to nibble Alec’s ear and he pushed her away, focused on removing a waterskin from her saddlebag. Just as he was about to return, he thought better and grabbed the second.

With Alec holding it for him, Magnus drank the first one in a single go, then tore into the second. Alec stopped him halfway, frowning at the face Magnus gave him.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” he said, then helped Magnus sit up and tapped his back. “Let me rinse this.”

Magnus nodded, then melted as Alec sat behind him and poured the remaining water over his shoulders. It wasn’t perfect wound cleaning, but the majority of the detritus and blood fell away, so Alec could count the cuts on his back. Some were already closed and forming scars, others were fresher and still bleeding, yet beginning to clot before his eyes. Heat radiated from the warlock’s back like a hearth. As the last of the water washed away the worst clump of mud and wood chips, Magnus let his head fall forward and moaned happily, Alec finding himself smile against his will at the sound. He hoped his blush would fade before Magnus saw.

Turning his head around to meet his gaze, Magnus grinned despite the pain and exhaustion in his eyes. “Maybe _you_ need some water splashed on you, Alexander.”

Okay, it hadn’t faded.

“Do I still owe you, now?” Alec needed to change the subject.

“You never did to begin with,” Magnus said. “I don’t do good acts expecting to be paid. That would be petty.”

“Say whatever you want, it won’t work on me. I know how your kind is.”

“I’m half demon, you’re a salesman. I think we’re on equal ground,” replied Magnus with a wicked smirk.

Alec peered at Magnus. When did he tell him about the Lightwood family’s business? Shaking the thought away, he stood and offered Magnus a hand up. “The group’s going to leave us behind.”

“Any chance of you untying my hands?”

“Nice try,” Alec snorted. “I’m probably already in enough trouble, thanks. I don’t want to be hung.”

“Mmm, yet I’m sure you are,” cooed Magnus.

Alec knotted his eyebrows. “What? No, I like living. Come on, let’s see what Philip wants done with you.”

Giggling, Magnus followed him. Alec wondered if all warlocks were this weird. What could possibly be funny right now?

Philip was not pleased to see them. “Ah, so you didn’t set the bitch free then, eh?”

Alec swallowed, and sustained eye contact with the other man. “We need the warlock to be at full strength, right? They were wasting time for no good reason, and torturing an innocent horse.”

“Retribution’s a mighty fine reason,” Philip snarled. His eyes were horizontal slits, filled with hatred. “He’s not human, he gets better fast. Be fine in a coupla hours.”

“Not if the abuse is constant.”

Philip stepped closer. His nose could almost brush Alec’s forehead. His breath was like swamp air, the alcohol on it nearly strong enough to inebriate Alec. Nevertheless, he did not flinch, only looked fixedly back with an expression that he hoped appeared to be calm and didn’t betray his heart pounding.

“Got some good men here. Some of ‘em’ve had their lives fucked up by witches. They deserve a bit of revenge and I’ll be damned if I let anyone get in the way of morale, understand me, pretty boy?”

Scattered laughs made Alec realize this wasn’t as private of an exchange as he’d thought. He looked around and realized a few of the mercenaries were watching, attentive. Once again, Alec worried if he’d made his life difficult. He would have to go back to the usual plan: lay low. Talk to nobody.

“I understand.”

“Try anythin’ like that again, I’ll cut yer throat meself. I get they might go overboard. But we only intervene if they’re gonna kill him. Fucker doesn’t deserve your sympathy. Get it?”

Alec nodded.

Tension disappeared as Philip began chuckling and pushed him a bit on the shoulder. “Good, now lemme finish introducing you to the gang. Someone, come take this witch.”

Magnus’s chain was grabbed at by multiple people and seconds later the crowd had engulfed him. Hating himself for the thought, Alec hoped Magnus would be okay.

“This here’s my little brother, Erin,” said Philip, pulling over the brown-haired man who had put the collar on Magnus days before. Now that it was pointed out, Alec could see the resemblance. Erin and Philip had the same flat nose, coarse beards, beady blue eyes and flushed pink faces. Philip’s hair was russet, while Erin’s was much darker, and it appeared Philip was the one who got all of the height and broadness. Erin, meanwhile, was more plump than his brother, and had a giddy naive look in his eyes. He looked at Philip with all the adoration of a young boy, causing Alec to miss Max.

“Hello,” Alec said, and Erin beamed.

“Hi, Alec,” he responded. “I ain’t mad like the others. I don’t get mad, ever.”

Alec couldn’t help it, the corner of his mouth crooked up. He’d seen Erin be cruel, however speaking to him, he seemed like a large puppy that didn’t know its own strength.

The group had begun to move as a whole, and Philip instructed for Alec to mount his horse. Then, to Alec’s discomfort, he stayed close on his own black stallion, left hand hooked under Calder’s bridle so he could pull her head in whatever direction he wanted Alec. Philip paraded him around the front of the group, introducing Alec to the members of what he called, the Army’s “Council.”

Igon was the most ancient man Alec had ever met, and he didn’t say much. White, fine hair tumbled across his collarbone and down his back, and his beard filled his lap. He had two circular scars on his forehead. Igon was very out of place from the rest of the group. He was extremely clean, rode a light grey pony, and was wearing flowing white robes. Even his pony’s tack was white, leaving Alec to wonder at the cost and origin of such leather.

Once Igon was out of earshot, Philip told Alec that he was a warlock.

“Don’t act like one, though. He’s been castrated so t’speak. Loves the church, hates his own kind. Least, that’s what he says,” explained Philip, rolling his eyes. “Cut off his own horns and calls ‘imself a priest. Bit of a nutter. The church sent him to help control and understand Bane, but we’ve learned he’s not much good at magic. Few party tricks, some cleaning here, a fire there, basic alarms and wards. When he cut his horns off he started aging. Says he feels it. Gets tired easy. He likes to keep to himself, and he’s pretty obedient, so we leave ‘im alone. Maybe he’ll set an example for Bane.”

“You don’t have Igon tied up,” noted Alec.

“Cause he’s a good dog. Not a bit of fight in ‘im. Still, I don’t trust him. King won’t let us shackle or get rid of him, though. Wasn’t my choice to bring ‘im along, I’ll tell ya that. We don’t need him. Look, here’s Donnel. This lad once killed a man using only a blade of grass. Donnel, this is Alec…”

There was Buck, a grey, slimy frog of a man missing his two front teeth. Then Alec was introduced to Luke, silent with deep umber skin like black coffee. He wore braids in a bandana, looked at Alec with kind eyes, and was followed by a pack of eight large mutts. After memorable Luke, the names began running together. This was a massive council. Alec couldn’t remember Clark from Logan, or Hamlyn from Jack; many names he forgot as he shook the man’s hand.

Philip had formed a level of acquaintance with everyone they passed. Nobody appeared exhausted, hungry, or in bad spirits. Alec didn’t like Philip, but he had to admit, he took care of his people.

\----------

When the sun was at its highest, and the gentle flat expanse of grass and farms had given to tight, rolling hills, a small girl, the first Alec had seen in the group, fell in live with Philip on a palomino pony. Mercifully, the older man released Calder’s bridle and told Alec to go. Alec stayed nearby, however, nosy about what the messenger had to say-and curious about the strange girl herself.

Tiny as a child, but she had the pretty face of an adult woman. White blonde curls that reached her chin contrasted sharply with her cherry wood skin. Shiny violet eyes with no pupils took up most of her face, and her ears ended in long points at the top. This was the first of the fae Alec had ever seen. Her voice was hushed, but he was certain he heard the word “collapsed”. Philip groaned.

“I’ll talk to them,” he said, then turned his horse and began to backtrack through the group.

The faerie joined Alec. He didn’t want to seem rude and stare at her, but she had no such inhibitions. She didn’t take her eyes off Alec, looking over his face like she was expecting to find something. He shifted in his saddle, uncomfortable at her scrutiny. Finally, the girl spoke.

“Andulain.”

Alec blinked. “Uh. Pardon me?”

“That is my name. Ann-doo-la-eynn. I do not have a surname.”

“Oh, right, nice to meet you, Andulain. I’m Alec, Alec Lightwood.”

She giggled. “Humans always struggle to pronounce it. Although, that was pretty good.” Her voice was high and whimsical. “You need to be harder on the end.”

“Andulai _nn_ ,” Alec tried again, but her giggles didn’t cease.

“That was even worse. You will get there. It is a good sign to me, that you are trying. I can see why he likes you.”

“Who?”

“Magnus. You are the one he took in, yes? I can not remember what he said your name was, but you look like how he described.”

“Magnus told you about me?” Alec couldn’t believe the warlock even went as far as describing him to this girl. He worried what else they discussed.

“I am the only other Downworlder around with some sense, and besides, we have been friends for decades. So we have been catching up,” she said. “I have learned that if Magnus likes a mortal, they tend to be one of the good ones. He has a good feel for people.”

“He likes me?” an incredulous sound came out of Alec’s throat. “I tried to kill him the second I woke up.”

Andulain rolled his eyes. “That would just make him like you more. No wonder he could not stop talking about you. I know humans are scared of warlocks, and you have good reasons for that. Magnus is one of the good ones. He can be trusted, so do not fear around him.”

Alec knew that faeries couldn’t say anything they knew to be a lie. That didn’t mean Magnus hadn’t hidden things from her, though. “Maybe.”

“I heard what you did for him this morning.”

“Word’s really getting around, huh?”

“I hear everything that happens here. Though, yes, many are speaking of it. You caused quite a stir. They will remember that.”

Alec sighed. “I just wanted to help the horse.”

“I think you are not telling the entire truth. Regardless, I will not push, because I have decided I like you and I want you to like me, too. Let us stick together, Alec Lightwood.”


End file.
